Fire Meets Ice
by Letstryagain
Summary: Same author. New twist on an old story.


Disclaimer: I don't own South of Nowhere. This story, however, is all mine.

A/N: So, you all might have seen this story before written by _SoNismyhobby_. We are the same person. I created this new account because I was reading my stories last night and I realized that I have evolved so much as a writer. Plus, I wanted to change the plot around a little bit on this story. Anyway this is just an introduction of sorts, so enjoy feedback is like gas, it'll just make me post faster.

Chapter One

She's beautiful but not in that stereotypical way –no she shines with colors so bright that she could block out the sun. God help you if her eyes catch yours because once that happens there is no looking away. They seem to glow –along with everything else about her- and invite you into a sense of security and you don't care if it is false or not because in that moment you are the happiest you have _ever _been. When she's sad they turn the darkest shade of brown and all you want to do is pull her tight to you and tell her it's going to be alright even if it is a lie. Her smile is so brilliant that even the sun shields its eyes and everything around her seems to have an unnatural shine. That amazing smile is framed by those lips which are the most brilliant shade or red and everyone seems to freeze when she speaks just to watch her lips move.

Accompanying those lips is her voice. Her voice is as luring as a siren's and whether you are a sailor or not you still have to stop and listen. When she is happy you can practically hear her smile and when she is sad her voice cracks and seems to be almost non-existent. Sometimes when she speaks it sounds like she could conquer the world if you asked and other times she sounds so vulnerable that you are afraid that she might break in your hands.

Her brown hair sparkles in the sun but is even more beautiful when it is being shaded by moonlight. She absent – mindedly curls her brown locks lightly around her fingers when she's concentrating to hard and the hair sometimes slips into her mouth when she's worried; I've seen that more times than I'd like.

Evil and unfortunate events seem to be drawn to her like paper clips to magnets but yet she continues on without complaint and I am jealous because I will never be that strong. She has walked through hell and back without getting a single burn. She's swimming in a sea of shadows but still manages to stay afloat. You might think that I am obsessed and to be honest you might be right but who is to say what is obsession and what is interest. She might sound too good to be true –sometimes I wish she was- but everything I said I believe and everything I said is true entirely. She is perfect. I've never seen a flaw.

To say that I fell in love with her the moment I saw her would be a lie; I admit she was beautiful even at twelve but her demeanor was less than attractive. Even the teachers at our school were captivated by her but I couldn't help but loathe her and her confident and rebellious manner. I sat in the back of the class with my enormous glasses and pimple scarred face, swimming I a pool of jealousy for the brunette beauty. She had everything and was everything that I wanted to be.

We didn't speak until we were both fourteen and even that was an accident. My hand eye coordination was worse than horrible and I soon found myself sprawled out on the floor, my glasses five feet from my face, and her lying beneath me. She yelled and stormed off leaving me to pick myself up my face burning bright red with embarrassment. She then surprised me by calling that same night to apologize fervently and offer me ice cream as a peace treaty.

By fifteen we were inseparable and known by the school as best friends. I had thankfully grown out of gawky stage, with some help from her and her amazing skill with hair and makeup. She never went through puberty, her skin was never flawed, and her hair was never greasy. She always had high expectations of herself and I soon found her setting up high expectations of me as well as she pushed me to try out for the cheerleading squad in sophomore year. I made the team. That was the first day I actually felt worthy enough to call her my friend.

I first kissed her in junior year. She had just found out that her father had died in an awful car accident and I was afraid that her already frozen demeanor would get even icier if I didn't do anything. My predicament was that I had no idea what to do; you just don't comfort Ashley Davies. So instead I pulled her out of third period and pushed her up against the wall. Our eyes met in a burning moment where brown embers met blue flames, and I found myself begging for it while she was trying to decide if I was worth being found out – if I was worth whatever crumbs she had me begging for. Finally, after several moments when my desire was moments away from swallowing me whole she took my lips in hers and when ice met fire the world seemed to stop for a moment.

Since that kiss every second we spent together was full of secretive kisses and soft touches. I loved her touch and craved every moment with her. I thought that nothing could be more beautiful than our first kiss but she proved me wrong again in senior year when she took me one night in a flash of passion and need.

She didn't show up for graduation and I spent it in tears, alone, without her arms wrapped around me to comfort me the empty seat next to me a sorrowful reminder that she was gone.


End file.
